


Dragonflame

by platinumpalace



Category: King Thorin - Fandom, The Hobbit - All Media Types, thorin oakenshield - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluffyfest, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, ogling Thorin in the firelight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumpalace/pseuds/platinumpalace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightmares of days past never quite disappear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragonflame

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on my tumblr many moons ago.

You woke with a start. As you sat up straight in bed, a single drop of ice cold perspiration slid slimily down your back. You sighed and brought your knees up to your chest, resting your head upon them. Thorin was still slumbering peacefully at your side. His long oak-brown hair fanned out over his pillow, and you extended your still-trembling hand to brush a lock away from his face. He was fine. Thorin was safe. You loved to see him asleep. His countenance was softened, unburdened from the worry of the great kingdom he governed day by day.

The nightmares that plagued you had been coming more often as of late. This night a dragon ravaged your dreams, and the imposing halls of Durin’s folk were once again flooded in flame. Surely Smaug was dead and gone. Another dragon was at best unlikely. As much as you tried to reassure yourself, the unbridled panic surging through your bloodstream refused to subside.

The images remained in your mind’s eye unbidden: the charred remnants of your people covering the floor, smoking, stinking of burned meat; another all-too-recognizable figure sitting upon a throne, orange flames lapping up his remaining flesh with relish. You run to your husband as your keening cries ring through the profound emptiness. Just as soon as you reach him, his body dissolves into a fine black dust. You can’t make a noise; you can’t move, but it is then that you realize you are also burning.

A dry sob burst from your chest and you turned your head to the side so as to not wake Thorin. A tear slipped down your cheek. You sat this way for a time, unable to discern whether it was one minute or thirty. It was then that you felt a strong hand on your back, softly stroking your shoulder blade.

“Another bad dream, my love?” Thorin whispered, propping himself up on an elbow.

You turned to him, half relieved that he had awoken. His deep voice was reassuring, and its calming effect began instantly. You nodded in reply, and shivered. You hadn’t realized the temperature of the room until now; it was freezing.

He yawned and sat up, carefully turned back the covers so as not to let cold air in, and stood. He picked up several logs from the corner of the room and strode to the fireplace in front of your bed; only embers were glowing red and orange among the ashes like dragon scales. He began to rekindle the fire until tongues of flame were again leaping merrily before the hearth.

You observed him at his work, thankful that he had foregone the tunic he usually wore to bed during the winter months. His long dark hair contrasted with his olive skin glowing golden in the firelight. With each movement, shadows emphasized every muscle of his strong back and arms.

He returned to bed and reclined, only half lying down under the sea of blankets.

“Come here,” he said in a low voice, inviting you to the warm, reassuring solace of his embrace. You put your head on his chest and laid your arm across his abdomen. His steady heartbeat and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest calmed you until the nightmare was all but forgotten.

The white battle scars on his torso were always an endless source of fascination; you traced them with your index finger. He chuckled at the sensation, and the deep resonance in his chest vibrated through you. He caressed the smooth swathe of your hair and hummed quietly. The gentle crackle and the orange glow of the fire blurred until you floated off to sweet dreams, safe in the arms of your beloved.


End file.
